“Pan Am? More like Pan ‘Awful’—but I’ll admit it’s clever.”
Listen here, you shiny-faced humans. This game’s about building airlines, buying routes, and selling them off to some big fancy corporation called Pan Am. Sounds fun, right? Well, if by “fun” you mean “watching your hard work get swallowed up by a giant metal bird while you’re left with a handful of coins and your dignity in tatters,” then sure—have at it.
You start with these little planes—pathetic things, barely able to carry a sack of goblin teeth across a pond. You try to connect cities, but every turn Pan Am creeps in like a smug air pirate, buying your routes for “shares.” Shares! What am I supposed to do with a slip of paper that says I own a piece of the sky? Can’t eat it. Can’t club a rival with it.
Oh, and the bidding. The bidding! Every round is a scrum for airports, engineers, and better planes. I bid 4 coins on Havana, thinking I’d secured it, but then Krizbella (curse her green hide) outbid me by 2, and I had to settle for some backwater airstrip where the passengers are all goats.
Don’t get me wrong—the game’s clever. The stock value changes like the weather, timing your sales is tricky, and there’s a cruel joy in buying up what your friends need. But if you’re not careful, you’ll spend the whole game with dust in your pockets while the winner cackles with a mountain of shares.
So yes—play Pan Am if you like cunning plans, economic brinkmanship, and watching your empire vanish under the iron wings of capitalism. Just don’t invite me. I’ve got better things to do… like polishing my rock collection.
Rating: 3.5 out of 5 shinies. Would play again only if bribed with goblin ale.
Krizbella